


this aint a party (get off the dance floor)

by cl0sed0wn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Underage Drinking, ill add tags l8r, teenager!derek, young!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl0sed0wn/pseuds/cl0sed0wn
Summary: The annual "Last Day of School Super Secret Party Bash" is held at a decrepit house a mile into the preserve.During Stiles's junior year, he sees a boy crying at his spot across the lake. When Stiles goes to try to help him, he runs into the woods.Turns out it's Derek Hale. Who supposedly died in a fire six years ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> y'all think i can finish this before the semester starts? probably not.  
> i have like half of it written and everything else meticulously planned out so it should be done soon tho  
> i made jackson, lydia, and danny upperclassmen for a reason i can't really remember now.  
> pls comment & kudos guys it's my first fic lmao

On the day of the first annual “last day of school super secret party bash” Stiles threatened Jackson Whittemore that he would tell his dad if he didn’t get an invitation. 

“You don’t even know where it’s going to be. What the hell are you going to tell your dad? ‘Daddy! Daddy! Scandalous kids are doing scandalous things somewhere in Beacon Hills! Go get them and bring them to justice!’ Yeah right, Stilinski.” Jackson closes his locker and starts to walk away.

Stiles speed walks to catch up with him. “You invited Scott! My best friend! Why am I any different?”

“Allison forced me to,” Jackson answered. Jackson says, staring straight ahead. He bumps fists with another sophomore and says, “Dude, you coming tonight?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the jock replies.

“Awesome, man. See you then.”

Stiles scoffs, still walking next to Jackson. “I’ll take over your laundry day next year.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Jackson smiles. “You really want to go that badly?”

“What can I say, I want a true high school experience,” Stiles quips. “Benchwarmer to the best lacrosse team in the state and being invited to super cool upperclassmen parties? Sign me up.”

“Whatever, Stilinski,” Jackson answers. “It’s at the old creepy house in the middle of the preserve.” 

Stiles stops in his tracks. “Isn’t that place condemned?”

“Relax, we’re not going inside it. No one’s that dumb.” Stiles gives him a glare. “They have a lake on site and no neighbors.”

“No neighbors to hear someone’s screams,” Stiles mutters under his breath. 

Stiles heart rate picks up when he hears the sound of heels rounding the corner. “Hey Lydia, you coming to this party tonight?”

She looks at Jackson. “Is he coming?” gesturing toward Stiles. Jackson looks down at the floor. “Great.”

Stiles stands with a goofy grin. “I’m pumped. Are you pumped? You look pumped.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go,” Lydia huffed.

Stiles readjusts his bag on his shoulder and starts walking in line with them. Lydia and Jackson both give a matching stare. “Oh, you mean let’s go as in you two go. Together. Alone. Okay. I got you. I’m just gonna- see you tonight!” he yells as Lydia walks away. Stiles turns around to walk in the other direction.

“Stilinski!” Stiles whips his head around to see Jackson yelling at the other end of the hallway. “Make sure you use fabric softener.”

“Fabric softener,” he says, giving a nod. “Right. Got it.”

\---

Stiles slams his lunch tray on the table in front of him. “Jackson’s a fucking douchebag,” he says, sitting down.

Scott looks up. “Bro, look,” he says, rolling up his sleeve, showing a dark purple bruise.

“Damn,” Stiles replies. “Is that from his lacrosse stick yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, rolling his sleeve down and reaching his hand out to steal a fry off of Stiles’s tray. Stiles slaps it away. “Think he’s just jealous that I made first line as a freshman.”

“Yeah, so, he hates you, but you still get an invite to the party?” Stiles mutters before taking a sip of his water.

“He invited everyone on the team!” Scott defends.

“I’m on the team!” Stiles exclaims back.

Scott looks down at his food. “Sorry, bro. I would have told you about it but, you know,”

“Relax,” Stiles interrupts. “I got invited.”

Scott pauses. “How’d you manage that?” Scott says incredulously.

Stiles looks at him, then looks down at his tray. “I took over his laundry duty.”

Scott scoffs. “For how long?”

Stiles still doesn’t meet his eyes. “Next year.”

Scott pauses. “This is really that important to you?”

Stiles looks up. “Yes, it’s this important to me.” Scott gives him a glare. “Okay, see it from my perspective. It’s freshman year, the end of the beginning of our entire high school career and you, my best friend, my only friend, are being invited to hang out with super cool people who, for some ungodly reason, think I’m super lame.” Scott scoffs. “I’m not setting this precedent of sitting at home in my boxers playing Halo every time you get invited to one of these things. I would so much rather be your annoying lapdog if it means free booze and a chance to hang out with new people.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Scott waves him off. “But if you’re thinking I’m going to ditch you for people like Jackson Whittemore, you’re a moron. We’re brothers, dude.”

“Yeah, I know.”

\---

Nearing midnight, Stiles and Scott head toward the preserve. 

“You couldn’t have asked someone on the lacrosse team for a ride?” Stiles says as they walk side by side in the dark.

“Like who? Jackson? Greenberg?” Scott replies. “Dude, you’re my only friend on the team. Just because I’m first line doesn’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.” They come across a row of cars at the edge of the forest and see a driveway that has apparently been blocked off. “Doesn’t look like it would have made that much of a difference anyway. Can’t get past this gate.”

They hop the chain and keep walking. “Doesn’t this seem a little sketchy?” Scott says about halfway through the seemingly endless pathway.

“Maybe. Jackson’s a moron for serving alcohol a mile deep into the forest. Imagine doing this inebriated?” Stiles replies, hearing music in the distance.

“So are you going to drink?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles replies. “I’ve never gotten drunk before, but it seems a little risky to do it in a forest.”

“What, are you afraid of mountain lions or something?” Scott says.

“Nah, man. I could just as easily trip on a root and not be able to get back home.”

“That does sound like you,” Scott laughs. “I’m going to get wasted. When are we going to get another opportunity like this?

“For you? Probably sooner than you think.”

Scott nudges him. “Stop with this self-deprecating bullshit. Wherever I go you're coming with me, bro.”

When they make it to the house, Jackson greets them with open arms. “McCall! Glad to see you. Stilinski came too, isn’t that just great. Okay, so drinks are over there by the porch,” he says, pointing in the distance. “People are heading towards the lake behind the house. Or you can stick around and dance or some shit, I don’t really care. Just keep your friend away from my girlfriend.”

“Got it. See you around,” Scott replies. They look around and see people standing around a dark, damaged house. Fairy lights are hung up along the porch (“probably Lydia’s handiwork, that beautiful genius”) and there are people with red cups in a small clearing surrounding a speaker and-

“OH MY GOD IS THAT A TIRE SWING” Stiles jumps excitedly.

Scott puts a hand on his chest. “Yes, it is a tire swing. Let’s just go get some drinks first.”

They walk over to the porch.

“Alright, now what have we got here. Buds, Smirnoff's, typical, typical, I’m guessing the cooler is just full of Jungle Juice, we don’t want to go down that road do we Scotty,”

“Mhm, yeah,” Scott says.

Stiles looks up. “You’re not paying attention to a single word I’m saying, are you Scotty,”

“Mhm, yeah,” Scott repeats, looking across the yard. Stiles follows his eye line.

“You’re going to take this drink and go talk to the hot brunette you’re staring holes into, right Scotty?” Stiles asks, putting a bottle in his best friend’s hand.

“Mhm, yeah,” Scott repeats, grasping the bottle. “Wait, what?”

“Go. I’ll watch the trainwreck from over here.”

“Trainwreck?” Scott says while being pushed towards the makeshift dance floor.

“Enjoy yourself, my man,” Stiles yells as Scott walks away, a face still full of confusion. He hears Scott awkwardly try to introduce himself and walks back to the porch. He pours himself a cup from the cooler and walks towards the lake. He sees people in the middle of a chicken fight and laughs when he sees Jackson start yelling at someone for staring too long at Lydia in her bikini, letting her fall off his shoulders into the water. Stiles keeps walking around the lake, nursing his drink. He comes across a small dock and takes his shoes off. He sits down, and spends the rest of his night getting drunk, bathing in the moonlight, kicking his feet slowly in the water, and listening to the sound of the party echo across the water.

His bliss gets interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket

(2:13 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
BRO WHERE U AT

(2:13 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
IM TRYNA LEVAE DID U GOALRAEDY

(2:13 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
ALLISON IS LAEVING CAN WE WAKL HER HOMR ITS DARK

He sits up on his elbows, leaving his hands available to type

(2:14 AM) TO: Brotato Chip  
Sure give me a sec Scotty i’ll meet you at the porch

He gets up to his feet, realizing how tipsy he is. He slips his socks and shoes back on and makes his way back to the house. Most of the people have left already, but he still sees a couple making out by the lake, and a few drunk jocks doing tricks with the tire swing. He spots a very drunk Scott talking to a beautiful girl by the porch. 

“Hey, I’m Stiles and you’re obviously not as drunk as he is.”

“No, I am not, but I am Allison,” the girl replies.

“She’s Allison, she’s not drunk she’s beautiful,” Scott says, trying very hard to stand without swaying.

Allison giggles. “I’ve actually got a car back on the main road if I can give you guys a ride home.”

“Yeah, that’d be real. I need all the help I can get with this one,” Stiles replies, gesturing towards Scott. 

Allison and Stiles make small talk as they walk the length of the driveway.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here. Where are you from?” Stiles asks.

“My family just moved here,” Allison replies. “We just came from Seattle, but I’ve lived in 5 different places in the last 4 years.

“She’s going to stay here though forrreeeeeverr,” Scott throws in.

Allison laughs. “I’m starting at Beacon Hills High in the fall, and as Scott translated, I think we’re finally sticking around for a while.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. You’ll have Scotty chasing you around like a lost puppy.” Scott hits him in the arm.

“Looking forward to it,” Allison says, laughing.

After what seems like hours, they make it to a silver car parked near the end of the driveway. “This is me,” Allison says, unlocking the car. 

“Alright let’s put Scott in the back since he’s probably going to pass out as soon as we start moving,” Stiles says, opening the door for his best friend.

“As long as he doesn’t throw up inside the car, that’s fine with me.”

Scott mumbles an incoherent, “Won’t,” before he falls over in the backseat. Stiles moves to the passenger seat. “Are you sure you’re good to drive?”

“Yeah, I only had a beer a while ago. Knew I was driving home tonight,” she says, buckling her seatbelt and starting the car. “You’re in good hands, I promise.”

“Sorry, sheriff's son here,” Stiles says, leaning against the window.

“You’re Stilinski’s kid?” Stiles nods. “Your name is Stiles Stilinski?” Allison says, giving a dimpled smile.

“Har har, I get that a lot. It’s a nickname. You don’t want to know my real name and honestly I probably drank too much to pronounce it correctly. Take the right up here.”

“Well, Stiles, we’re probably going to be seeing each other a lot,” Allison says, following his directions. “My dad sells weapons to local law enforcement.”

“Oh, that’s cool. It’s the house here on the left,” Stiles says, gesturing as Allison slows down.

“Do you need help getting him inside?” Allison asks as Stiles gets out of the car.

“Nah, I think I can handle it,” he replies, getting Scott on his feet and guiding him to lean on his shoulders. “Thank you so much, Allison! You’re the realest.”

“Wait!” Allison says, and Stiles comes to the car window. “Can you make sure Scott gets this?” she says, handing him a small piece of paper. 

Stiles chuckles. “Yeah, of course. See you soon!” He leads Scott inside the house and up the stairs. He sits him down on the bed, takes off his shoes and jacket and runs to the bathroom, coming back with some aspirin and a glass of water. Scott slumped back over, clearly ready for the sleep of a lifetime, but Stiles manages to sit him back up and get him to take the pills and drink the entire glass. He takes off his own shoes and runs around to lay on the other side of the bed.

The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is Scott muttering about dark hair and dimples.

The next day, he gives Scott Allison’s phone number and tells him not to drink again. Scott agrees entirely.

Later that day Stiles makes the mile-long trek up the driveway to the Hale House wearing a pair of rubber gloves and a hefty bag in each hand. 

\---

On the day of the second annual “Last Day of School Super Secret Party Bash,” Stiles is not remotely as excited as he was last year. 

“I can’t believe you got detention on the last day of school,” Scott says as they head towards the cafeteria.

“I can,” Stiles replies, holding open the door for his best friend.

“I can’t believe you told Harris off.”

“I can,” Stiles repeats. Scott glares at him. “Harris is a dick for giving us a pop quiz the day after our final.”

“I can’t believe you’re registered for AP Chem next year.”

Stiles chuckles. “I can.” He stops laughing when he sees Allison approaching.

“Hey, Stiles! You’re coming tonight, right?” Allison gives off a friendly smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Stiles replies, dripping in sarcasm. “Scott, remember last year when-”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve grown a lot this year. I won’t need you guys to carry my drunk ass home tonight. Unless Allison wants too, of course.”

“I can’t think of a better way to end my night,” Allison shrugs at Scott.

Stiles fake gags. “Alright, we get it, you guys are in love. Listen, you guys go get lunch, I’m going to go grab a sandwich and talk to Harris about when he’s free to, you know, eat my whole ass or whatever.” He trails off when he realizes they’re not listening to him at all. “Scott!” he says loudly, getting his best friend’s attention. “I’ll pick you up at 9, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll see you then,” he replies, taking Allison’s hand in his and heading towards the courtyard.

Stiles rolls his eyes. He loves Allison, she’s an awesome person, but even during the limited time Scott seems to have to spend time with him, his mind is still obviously elsewhere. He’s happy for them, but goddamn they’re annoying. He goes and convinces Harris to let him have his detention now, considering he has nothing better to do with his lunch period.

“This actually works out well for me,” Harris replies, “Now I don’t have to spend the rest of my last day of teaching you little bastards dreading spending another hour after school with my favorite student.”

Stiles gives him a wry smile, sitting in the back of the class and pulling out his turkey sandwich.

\---

When Stiles gets home, he actually considers going tonight. He’s gotten friendlier with Scott’s friends, and Lydia actually knows his name now, but honestly he knows he’s not genuinely wanted there. Scotts going to spend the entire night with Allison, considering it is technically their anniversary. When he thinks about spending time with Jackson, Lydia, and Danny without Scott as a buffer, he gets kind of queasy. 

But, he knows that if something happens while those morons are drinking in the middle of the woods and he was at home pigging out and watching Star Wars, he’ll feel responsible. And he’s a 16 year old boy, he hates responsibility more than anything else in the world.

So, Stiles stays true to his word and picks Scott up at 9 pm sharp. 

“Does this shirt look okay?” Scott asks, not even bothering with a hello.

“Yes, Scott, you look smoking hot as always. Can we go?”

“Jesus, man. Why so touchy?” Scott says, buckling in.

“I don’t know, I’m tired, I guess.”

“No one’s forcing you to come, dude,” Scott replies.

“No shit.”

They pull up to the entrance of the driveway and Stiles parallel parks between two SUVs. 

“Allison!” Scott shouts as soon as they get out of the car, seeing her head towards the driveway.

“How are my two favorite boys doing?” Allison says, pulling Stiles in for a hug, then Scott in for a peck on the lips.

“Stiles is being a little pissy,” Scott says in a stage whisper.

“Am not,” Stiles snaps back.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Was Harris being a douche?” Allison prompts.

“Dude elected to have me reorganize the entire stock cabinet instead of, you know, eating my ass.”

“I highly doubt you would let Harris anywhere near your ass,” Allison laughs.

Stiles scoffs. “Not unless he buys me dinner first.”

When they finally make it to the end of the path, Stiles practically runs to the porch bar things, pouring himself a solo cup filled to the rim with Jungle Juice.

“Dude, how can you drink that stuff?” Scott asks, catching up with him.

“Speak for yourself,” Stiles replies, gesturing towards the can of PBR Scott is now holding in his hands. “I’d hate to be Allison, having to make out with someone whose breath smells like moose piss.”

Allison laughs, picking out a can of beer for herself. “Now we can match.”

“Aw,” Lydia says, turning up out of seemingly nowhere. “You two are disgustingly adorable. Emphasis on the disgusting,” she says, picking a pink Smirnoff's from the cooler.

“Lydia, how are we doing tonight? You look as gorgeous as ever,” Stiles says, giving a goofy smile.

“Right,” she replies, giving him a once over before turning her attention back to the happy couple. “Anyway, I came over to ask if you guys wanted to play a good ol’ fashioned round of Truth or Dare.”

“Actually,” Scott starts and doesn’t finish that sentence, obviously intimidated by the other girl.

“We were going to go down to the lake,” Allison finishes for him.

“Oh. Okay then,” she turns around quickly, attempting to avoid the inevitable.

“I’ll join in,” Stiles speaks up. Lydia cringes. “I mean, I obviously have nothing else to do.”

Lydia gives him a weak smile. “Alright then.” She leads him to where Jackson, Danny, and a few other people Stiles recognizes from school sitting in a loose circle.

“Alright, shall we begin?” Lydia asks, taking the spot next to her boyfriend. “Remember, the cop out is an entire cup of Jungle Juice.”

“Let’s start out with a good one,” Jackson says, scanning the crowd. “Stilinski! Truth or Dare.”

Stiles perks up. “Dare.”

“I dare you to skinny dip in the lake,” Jackson says, not missing a beat.

“Done,” Stiles says, stripping while running towards the lake. Some people from the group follow.

“Oh damn, on my long list of things I never wanted to see in my life, I think Stiles’s pasty ass ranks above walking in on my parents when I was nine,” Danny says.

“Yeah right, Danny,” Stiles yells while running into the water. He dips his head beneath the surface and comes right back out, trying to collect his clothes and his dignity at the same time. Everyone returns to the group. 

“Alright guys, who’s next?” Jackson speaks up.

During the game someone gets asked to do a keg stand, and the darer gets reprimanded for forgetting the keg in the first place. Someone gets asked to describe in perfect detail what they would do if they absolutely had to give Harris a blow job. And, of course, there is a lot of awkward kissing.

Lydia gets dared to give Stiles a lap dance. She downs the entire solo cup in the middle of the circle in one go.

“Wow, I’ve never seen someone chug that shit so quick,” Jackson wheezes out.

“Ugh, what’s even in that stuff?” Lydia says, grimacing.

“Danny you’re up. Truth or Dare?” Greenberg says.

Danny smirks. “Dare.”

Greenberg ponders for a minute before speaking. “I dare you to go in the house.”

Stiles perks up. “Are you fucking kidding me Greenberg,” he exclaims a little drunkenly. 

“What, it’s a good dare,” Greenberg replies.

“Dude, the place is condemned, it’s going to fall apart with the next gust of wind,” Stiles replies.

“That’s why it’s a good dare. Danny, are you going?”

“Just take the cop out, dude,” Stiles insists.

Danny scoffs. “That stuff is nasty,” he says while rising to his feet. 

“Wait, let me come with you,” Stiles says, getting up.

“No way am I going into a dark room alone with you, Stilinski.” Everyone in the circle gives a small chuckle. Stiles pleads with his eyes, wanting to prevent this dare from harming anyone.

“Just let me do it instead,” Stiles asks.

“Is that allowed?” Danny looks at Greenberg.

“Be my guest, Stilinski. You can’t just stick your toes in and say its haunted. You gotta do an entire lap.”

“Fine, but I’m not going upstairs.” Stiles moves slowly, feeling as stable as the house, ready to topple over at any minute. He makes his way up the porch. He realizes at this point everyone has their attention turned back to the game and could just as easily pour himself a drink and return to the circle. But his curiosity overcomes him as he goes through the tape and opens the door.

The smell of soot is overwhelming, and the smell of decay shortly follows. He covers his mouth and nose with his damp shirt and takes a look around. He immediately sees a grand staircase he wouldn’t trust walking up, and turns his attention to the blackened walls, complete with broken picture frames fallen to the ground. To his left, he sees a large open area, probably a library judging by the few bookshelves left standing. To his right he sees a few rooms and plants growing in the gaps between the floorboards.

The place is beautiful, but he knows he can’t walk any further. He takes a picture of the staircase with his phone, and walks back out into the night.

“How was it?” Danny immediately asks when he rejoins the circle.

“Spooky.”

After the game ends, the group splits up. Some go to the speaker, and others head toward the lake. He follows them and instead goes around to the dock he found last year. He spends the remaining time enjoying being drunk and listening to the sounds echoing from across the water. 

The next day, he spends his morning trying to get over his mini hangover and his afternoon cleaning up around the mansion once again. 

\---

On the day of the third annual “Last Day of School Super Secret Party Bash,” Stiles asks Jackson if the party could be moved to a less dangerous location.

“Why? You afraid of mountain lions or something?”

“I just don’t think it’s safe to have a hundred drunk teenagers a mile deep into the woods,” Stiles says, drumming his fingers on the lunch table.

“Well, where else would you like to have it? The Sheriff’s house?”

Stiles stays silent, trying to think. Lydia breaks in. “I like the house. The lake is so nice and everything is so quiet afterwards. Last year we got to watch the sun rise over the water.”

“Besides,” Jackson butts in, “This is our last party. Me, Lyds and Danny are graduating this year. Next year you can throw it wherever the hell you want.”

Stiles hangs his head in defeat. “Alright, whatever. But when you get attacked by a mountain lion I’m not going to be the one to run and save you.”

(12:04 PM) TO: Brotato Chip  
Do you think I should actually bring swim trunks this year?

(12:06 PM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
party didnt get moved? also, yes. definitely. dnt want a repeat performance of last year.

(12:06 PM) TO: Brotato Chip  
THAT WAS A DARE. Also, you weren’t even there. You were busy macking on Allison underneath the moonlight, the serious moonlight.

(12:09 PM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
heard about it in the locker room during hell week last year. apparently you have an ass that is unforgettable.

(12:10 PM) TO: Brotato Chip  
Did Danny say that? 

(12:13 PM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
yea

(12:14 PM) TO: Brotato Chip  
Ok but like how did he say it...

(12:16 PM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
???

(12:16 PM) TO: Brotato Chip  
I just wanna know if I’m attractive to gay guys. Why is that such a hard concept to grasp?

Stiles puts his phone down and proceeds to look through his closet for something clean to wear. He decides to skip the swim trunks again, resorting to a pair of Levis and a Captain America shirt. He plays around on his DS for a bit, then grabs his keys and heads out the door.

He picks up Scott and waves to Melissa who’s standing in the doorway. “Be careful tonight. I can’t believe I’m saying this but Stiles keep my son out of trouble.”

“Of course.” Stiles gives her a smile as they pull out of the driveway.

They drive to the preserve, singing along to the radio.

“Is Allison there already?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, she is.” There was a brief pause before Scott started up again. “I had dinner with her family today.”

“How was that?”

“You know, after two years of us dating you would think that her dad would lighten up with me by now.”

“He’s still threatening you?” Stiles says, laughing slightly.

“It’s not funny,” Scott whines. “Although, he did say that he would threaten to shoot any man who touches his daughter. Which means he doesn’t necessarily hate me, he just hates the fact that I’m defiling her, or whatever.”

“He admitted that? That counts as progress, right?”

“I don’t know, he carries a weapon on him at all times. I don’t want to get comfortable with him just yet.”

They hop out of the car and begin walking towards the house. Once they get there, Stiles picks a Mike’s Hard from the cooler and gathers with his friends. 

“So, Stilinski,” Lydia begins and Stiles lifts his head. “What colleges are you planning on applying to?”

“Ugh, not another one of these conversations.”

Lydia laughs. “You get used to it.”

“You probably look forward to them now, Ms. Early Decision to MIT.” Lydia gives a hair flip. “Uh, I was thinking about staying in state, you know, for my dad. So, Stanford, Berkeley, all that jazz.”

“What are you planning on majoring in?”

Stiles laughs. “Chem, if you can believe it. I’m trying to go into forensics.”

“It fits,” Lydia nods. “You’re top in your class, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, flushing.

Later that night, Stiles realizes that he didn’t embarrass himself once during that entire interaction. He also realizes for the first time that his heart didn’t try to beat out of his chest. Huh.

Once he’s got a good buzz going, he heads to his spot at the dock. Only, there’s someone there already. He gets closer and realizes whoever is there is obviously crying. He steps on a stick and winces when he hears it crack. Suddenly he’s meeting the eye of a kid who looks about the same age as Stiles with watery eyes and a blotchy face. “Hey,” Stiles tries to speak up, but the kid takes off running as fast as he can into the forest.

Stiles just stares into the distance before his anxiety starts to pick up. He’s got a bad feeling about this. He thinks long and hard about what he’s about to do, and then deciding it’s probably a terrible idea to ruin his reputation like this, he calls his dad.

“Beacon Hills Police, this is the Sheriff speaking.”

“Hey, pops.”

“Hey, kiddo. How’s the, what did you call it? ‘Super awesome McCall Stilinski Bro Time Extravaganza?’”

“Well, about that.”

“Oh god, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing! Why do you always have to assume the worst?”

“Well, when you’re given a son like mine...”

“Alright, Dad, I get it.”

“So, why are you calling me on a Friday night if you’re not in trouble?”

“You see, I’m at this party...”

“Huh, didn’t think the Sheriff’s kid gets invited to parties.”

“Yeah, this is definitely the reason why. Someone should probably come shut it down.”

“Why are you asking? Is someone in trouble?”

“It’s at the old mansion in the middle of the woods. I just feel really uneasy about it.”

The Sheriff stays silent for a moment. “Well, it’s late enough. These kids can’t be super pissed over it. I’ll send some deputies over.”

“Thanks dad.”

“I trust your instincts. I’m glad you do too. You’re a good kid.”

“You’re a great Sheriff.” He exhales. “I’m gonna run before your buddies get here. I’ll see you at home.”

“I’m not going to be getting back until 7 AM tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight, pops.”

And that’s how Stiles became the official narc of Beacon Hills.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles wakes up the next day with a somewhat clear head. He sits up and grabs his phone from the nightstand scrolling through about a dozen notifications on his home screen.

(1:47 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
allison is taking me home, mom is on night shift ;)

(2:13 AM) FROM: Jackass Whittemore  
DUDE I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR SKINNY LITTLE ASS

(2:14 AM) FROM: Jackass Whittemore  
I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT YOUR DAD IS THE SHERIFF I’M LITERALLY GOING TO KILL YOU

(2:30 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
holy shit the cops crashed? if ur dad caught you im so sorry bro

(2:43 AM) FROM: Jackass Whittemore  
FUNNY HOW YOU SUDDENLY DISAPPEAR BEFORE THE COPS ARRIVE. I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

(2:55 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
HAHAHA LYDIA TXTED ALLISON JACKSONS BEING DRIVEN HOME IN A COP CAR

(2:56 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
im so sorry ur probably getting 400 death threats from him rn

(2:58 AM) FROM: Brotato Chip  
im so happy we got out of there b4 hand. mom wldve killed me. hope sheriff goes easy on u. Ill pray 4 u

(8:06 AM) FROM: Pops  
Just got called out to work again. Got about 20 minutes of sleep >:( I should be able to come back home at lunchtime if you want to cook before I pass out like a loving son who got in no trouble last night :) :) :)

Stiles groans, worried for his father. He begins replying to his texts.

(10:20 AM) TO: Brotato Chip  
Got out of there beforehand. Should’ve made sure you got home okay first. All is good from this end, no trouble with the Sheriff.

(10:21 AM) TO: Jackass Whittemore  
Sorry dude. Not my fault. I dipped about an hour after I showed up. 

(10:23 AM) TO: Pops  
Gotta run an errand, check up on Scott, but I should be able to grab some food from Ricky’s on my way home. I’ll get you a real burger if we pretend last night didn’t happen <3

Stiles rolls out of bed, changes his shirt and puts on a pair of basketball shorts. He runs to the bathroom, relieves himself, washes his face and takes an adderall. He makes his way downstairs into the kitchen, grabs a granola bar and a water bottle, and then squats down to find a pair of Hefty’s in the cabinet under the sink. When he finds them, he slings them over his shoulder, grabs his keys, slips his shoes on and heads out the door.

He gets in his car, fiddles with the radio until he settles on NPR, and drives back to the preserve. On his way, he sees a few parked patrol cars outside a different entrance to the preserve. He gives the scene a small puzzled look but continues driving.

Eventually, he makes it to the blocked-off driveway and parks along the street. He grabs the trash bags and water bottle, stuffing the granola bar in his pocket. He treks up the pathway, whistling to himself. “Jesus Christ,” he says to himself when he finally gets there. 

It makes sense that the mess today is greater than what he’s cleaned up the last couple of years; people literally dropped their drinks and ran. He takes out his phone and starts shuffling his music, placing it on the porch. He sets his water bottle down too. Then, he gets to work. 

Stiles is not some sort of hippie. He takes long showers. He can’t remember the last time the recycling bin at his house was used at all. He drives an old jeep for christ’s sake, the most inefficient vehicle on the road. But he remembers picking up fragments of plastic on the ground after a water balloon fight at one of his birthday parties. “You had your fun,” his mother had told him, “now it’s your turn to make sure the birds and squirrels can have theirs.”

He fills up two bags, and realizes that the amount of solo cups around the lake are not going to fit in the last bag he brought. After fishing out a cup from the water, he hears his music stop and his phone began to ring. He drops his stuff and runs back to his phone, wiping his hands on his pants. He holds it carefully next to his face.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Stiles,” he hears his dad respond with absolutely no energy.

“Hey, pops. How are you on this beautiful morning? You don’t sound all that excited to hear my voice.”

“I’m absolutely exhausted so please use as few words as possible.”

“Sorry, dad. What’s up?” He hears some sort of critter moving around just outside the clearing.

He hears his dad sigh into the receiver. “Last night... did you see anything weird happen? Was there something that made you decide to call me?”

Stiles pauses, remembering the scene on the lake, the kid, his tears, his hurried dash to the trees. He hears movement again. “I, uhhHOH MY GOD,” he exclaims when he sees a silhouette coming through into the grassy area. After his initial shock, he recognizes the face, the same one that looked him in the eyes last night when Stiles called out to make sure he was okay. The boy is wearing wrinkled and faded clothing, and his face looks worn.

“Stiles? Stiles” his dad says, trying to get his attention, but his focus sticks to the wide, pleading eyes in front of him, on the boy holding a finger to his lips, obviously begging Stiles to stay silent about what’s in front of him.

He just stares incredulously for a moment, then talks into his phone again. “Yeah, I, sorry about that I swear to god I just saw a chipmunk run at 70 miles an hour right in front of me.” The teenager puts his hand down, refusing to break eye contact.

“Chipmunk? Where are you right now?” 

“Uh, the preserve?”

“STILES!” his dad yells into his phone. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? I came back to clean up the mess from last night.”

“Alone?” Stiles looks up at the man in front of him. He doesn’t answer, knowing his dad wouldn’t like the response Stiles would give him. “You couldn’t even bother to bring Scott with you when you decided to walk a mile into the woods?”

“I go walking in these woods all the time and haven’t been bitten by anything worse than a mosquito. What’s going on?”

His dad pauses, taking a deep breath. “Did you see anything last night or not?”

Stiles looks into the eyes of the stranger in front of him while saying, “No, not that I can remember. Why, what happened?”

“Nothing at all? Then why did you call me?”

“I uh,” he pauses, giving himself a minute to think. “Well, Jackson started yelling at Lydia in the middle of a crowd, and she was almost crying, and I tried to go to comfort her and she brushed me off yet again because, well, I’m me and she’s Lydia, and so I just wanted Jackson to get busted and embarrassed like he did to her and for her to have a reason to leave without ruining her pride and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he says, exasperated. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone walk off?”

Stiles gives a questioning eyebrow to the kid in front of him, still standing still. “Can you give me specifics?”

His dad sighs. “5’ 4”, long blonde hair, wearing a white dress and gladiator sandals.”

Stiles tries to wrack his brain. He recalls someone matching that description handing out cups from the cooler. “Yeah, she was definitely there. She went to Beacon Hills High, she graduated last year. I think her name was Chloe? Chelsea? Something like that.”

“Did you see her walk off? Anyone you didn’t really know hanging out with her?”

“No, I don’t think so. Most of the kids there were from my high school.” His dad leaves him in silence for a moment. “Am I allowed to ask what happened?”

“I’ve already told you too much,” the Sheriff responds, absolutely exhausted. “Now, get out of those damned woods and text me when you get to your car.”

“Will do, pops. Please, take a nap at your desk. You know you can’t think when you’re running on empty like this.”

“I know. Hopefully I’ll be home soon.” With that, he ends the call. 

Stiles holds his phone next to him. “You better have a really good fucking reason why   
I didn’t tell my dad, the Sheriff, about the one kid I didn’t know last night and his very peculiar behavior.”

“I,” he starts, like it’s painful to try to talk. “Thank you,” he says, looking down at his shoes, “for trusting me,”

“You better start talking now.”

The kid starts to squirm under the scrutiny of Stiles’s eyes. He stares at his feet, obviously trying to come up with something that will get him out of his mess, and doesn’t open his mouth.

“Dude, who the fuck are you?” Stiles is met with a fearful glare, like it pains him to try to find an answer. “Do you have a name?” Stiles asks, putting his hands on his hips.

The kid pauses for a second. “Derek.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” The teen in front of him goes back to staring at his shoes. “Hey, if you don’t start explaining yourself now I swear to God I’ll call my dad back.” 

Stiles realizes he should be calling his dad. He should be running. There’s a girl missing or dead or something from being in these woods and he’s face-to-face with a complete stranger acting extremely suspicious. 

But he stands his ground and waits for the response he’s trying to squeeze out from the other boy because despite standing in front of someone who, admittedly, looks like he could knock Stiles out with a flick of his fingers, he doesn’t feel threatened at all.

The boy in front of him looks how Stiles should feel. He seems scared out of his mind. “I didn’t hurt that girl,” he says with a shaking breath. 

“Did you know her?” Stiles responds after taking in Derek’s statement.

“No,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” Stiles runs a hand over his face, “okay, great, you didn’t hurt her. Do you know who did? Did you know something was going to happen? Is that why you were crying?”

“No, I swear I didn’t know anything,” Derek responds.

“Well then, what happened? And why are you here now?”

“I-” he starts, looking at anything but Stiles. “I wanted to come help you.”

Stiles just stares. “Help me?”

Derek nods towards the trash bags on the porch. “I know you clean up every year. I used to, um, come to the lake when I was a kid all the time. It’s nice to know someone, you know, takes care of it.”  
“Oh,” Stiles responds, still eyeing the kid in front of him suspiciously. “In that case, grab a bag,” he says, but it comes out more like a question.

Derek nods, and together they clean up the rest of the litter in record time.

“So, you don’t go to BHH.” Stiles says when they begin the trek back to the jeep.

“I’m, uh, homeschooled,” Derek replies.

Stiles snorts. “Of course you are. You’re so quiet.” Derek shrugs in response. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Me too! Eighteen in February.”

“Mine’s in January.”

“Capricorn?” Stiles asks. Derek smiles and gives a small nod. “My birthday’s on the 18th, so I’m right at the cusp of Aquarius and Pisces. But you probably don’t care about all that stuff. Typical Capricorn.”

Derek gives a small laugh. 

“My mom and I used to bring blankets out here up by the cliff? You know?” Derek nods. “Yeah, that one. We looked at constellations. She was an Aquarius too. She taught me about all that stuff and, I don’t know, it could be a load of bullshit but it’s also a load of fun making fun of my best friend for being an Aries.”

Derek smirks. “Aries aren’t too bad.”

“Eh. They do lose their temper easily and have a lot of pride so taunting him about it and watching him go red in the face trying to defend something he knows nothing about is really funny to me.”

Stiles continued to babble, and Derek nodded appropriately and gave the occasional one-word answer to show Stiles he still captured his attention. After a few minutes, they finally reached the Jeep. “So, come load those in the back,” he says, unlocking the car. “I’ll drop them off in a dumpster. Actually,” he pauses, turning to face the teen, “I was going to go to Ricky’s if you wanted to, uh, join me.”

Derek looked up, then looked past Stiles towards the line of trees. 

Stiles took his response as a refusal. “Oh, it’s, you know it’s okay if you don’t. I was gonna grab it to go anyway so it’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s-” Derek starts. “I’d love to, I haven’t been there in years. It’s just- I’m flat broke.”

“Oh, it’s cool, I’ll pay for you,” Stiles says, grinning.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Relax, man,” Stiles says, guiding Derek to the passenger seat. “My best and only friend got a job for the summer,” he speaks up as he travels to the other side of the Jeep. “Between that and his girlfriend, I know I’m looking at two months of pigging out and playing video games alone in my room in my underwear.” Derek snorts at that. 

Stiles looks at him before buckling his seatbelt and putting his key into the ignition. “I’m due for a new friend and you’re pretty cool. Let me try to recruit you with a burger.”

Derek doesn’t say anything and lets himself be driven to the diner. The entire way there, Stiles sings along to the Spice Girls. Derek realizes he has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

When they get there, Stiles is immediately greeted by the owner. “Stiles! How’s your father doing?” a dark-skinned man in his 50s bellows.

Stiles smiles and shakes his hand. “Well, his arteries are still pretty clogged thanks to you.”

The man laughs. “Who’s your friend?”

Stiles nudges him with his elbow. “His name’s Derek, and he doesn’t really talk much.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about speaking over him, do you now?” The man says, rubbing Stiles’s buzz cut. “Let me find you a booth.”

“Thanks, Ricky,” Stiles says, letting himself be led. They sit down and open their menus. “How many orders of curly fries do you think is too many orders of curly fries?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “One?”

Stiles’s jaw dropped. “Forget what I said in the car. I can’t believe I thought we were going to be friends. How do you not like curly fries?”

Derek shrugged. “Too greasy.”  
“Too what? Too greasy? Are you kidding me?” Stiles responds, getting a little too loud. “I’m ordering 3 plates of them and I’m going to force you to eat one of them. An entire plate. And we’re not leaving until you do.”

Derek smiles down at his menu. “Sounds good.”

They get a table full of burgers, curly fries, mozzarella sticks, chicken tenders, and milkshakes (“To reward us for our hard work today”) and Stiles orders a turkey burger and a caesar salad to go for his dad.

Stiles watches Derek pick a curly fry off of the plate with more focus than he’s had in years. “These are actually pretty good,” Derek says softly after taking a bite.

“HA! I told you,” Stiles says.

After sharing a comfortable silence while chowing down on their lunches, Stiles says, “Can I ask you a question?” while wiping his hands with a napkin. Derek nods. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, because frankly I’ve been told I butt into people’s business to much but I just can’t really help it, you know? And-”

“Stiles,”

“Why were you crying?” he blurts out suddenly. “On that night of the party.”

Derek doesn’t look him in the eyes, instead focusing on pushing a mozzarella stick around the saucer of marinara sauce. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.” 

“No it’s,” Derek starts, “it’s okay. That night was, um, the anniversary of,” he takes a breath, “my parents death.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Jeez, I’m sorry about the party then, we must have been loud and stuff while you were, Christ, that was disrespectful. You said your family went to the lake all the time, right?”

“Yeah, um,” Derek says softly. “Yeah we did.”

They sit in silence for a moment. “How old were you when you lost them?”

“Eleven.”

Stiles gives a curt nod. “My mom died when I was nine, so I know what it’s like dealing with that at a young age.”

“It’s shit.”

Stiles gives a small laugh. “Understatement of the year.” Neither of them talk until the waiter comes back to put the bill on the table. “So... do you wanna come back to mine and play some Call of Duty?”

Derek thinks for a second.

“If you have somewhere you have to be, don’t let me get in the way or whatever. It’s okay,” Stiles says, putting tip on the table.

“No, I don’t,” Derek says, smiling. “I’d love to.”

When they get back to the Jeep, they unload the trash they collected today into the dumpster in the alley next to the restaurant. They drive back to the Stilinski's house (and Derek is forced to listen to Stiles singing along enthusiastically to his Spice Girls CD again), and Stiles furrows his brows at the site of an absent police cruiser. 

Derek notices his worry. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad’s still at work. He didn’t get to sleep last night at all,” he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, carrying his dad’s to-go box. “I’m just worried about him, that’s all.”

Derek nods in understanding. 

“He’ll be back soon,” he says, taking his shoes off and leading Derek to the living room. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

Derek loses every round they play together.

“I can’t believe how bad you are at this,” Stiles says laughing as he lands another headshot.

Derek gives off a smile. “I haven’t played anything like this in years.”

“Dude, that’s such a sad existence,” Stiles replies over the sound of gunfire. “So what do you do if you don’t play video games?”

Derek shrugs. “I read.”

Stiles scoffs. “Of course you do.”

They hear the door open and Stiles pauses the game. “Hey, Dad!” He jumps up to greet the Sheriff at the door. 

“Hey, kiddo. You got my food?” He pulls Stiles in for a quick hug. Derek observes the heavy bags under his eyes from where he’s awkwardly standing by the couch. 

“Yeah, it’s in the fridge. I’ll heat it up for you,” Stiles says, heading to the kitchen.

The Sheriff follows and sits at the kitchen table to unlace his boots. Derek comes wandering in a few seconds later, shifting around on his feet. “Who’s your friend?”

Stiles gestures towards the teen. “This is Derek, we met at the party.” Derek comes to the table to shake the Sheriff’s hand. 

“Hi, Derek. I’m tired,” the Sheriff replies, laughing at his own joke.

“Oh my god, Dad, that was terrible,” Stiles says, placing a plate of the diner food in front of him. He grabs the seat across from him and ushers Derek to sit on the adjacent side of the table. “So, did you close the case on that girl?”

The Sheriff finishes chewing a mouthful of burger before he begins to speak. “The investigation is still ongoing, but it looks like it’s just some sort of animal attack.”

Stiles sees Derek perk up at that. “She’s dead, right?”

“Yeah,” his dad replies, looking beat. “She was young, too.”

“What do you think it was?” Stiles asks. 

The Sheriff wipes his face with a napkin. “Probably some sort of mountain lion.”

“Mountain lion,” Derek repeats. Stiles looks at him but Derek doesn’t meet his eyes.

The Sheriff turns to Stiles. “Think about this the next time you try to get drunk in the woods.”

Stiles nods, riddled with shame.

“Well,” the Sheriff gets up from the table, “I’m going to go sleep for twenty years or so.” He puts his dishes in the dishwasher. “It was good meeting you, son,” he says, clapping Derek on the back. 

“You too,” he replies. He waits until he hears a door close upstairs before saying, “Listen, I’ve, uh, I’ve got to go.” He gets up and pushes his chair in.

“Oh, okay,” Stiles says, eyeing him suspiciously. “Do you need a ride?”

Derek looks at him. “No, I can walk it’s fine.”

Stiles gets up and leads him to the door. “Okay. Um, do you want to hang out again this week?”

Derek practically runs to the door, slipping his shoes on as quickly as possible. “Yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Stiles responds, hearing the door slam. It wasn’t until after Derek had run down the block did he realize Derek didn’t even have his number. “Fuck,” he says to himself, feeling like he did something to annoy Derek and make him sprint like that. He replays every conversation they shared that day on a loop.


End file.
